


Comedown

by le_chat_vilain



Series: The Joker and the Thief [15]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, NSFW, Smut, awkward fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joker and Blaire return home and confront one another about the events of the last three days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comedown

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for biting but other than that nothing out of the ordinary.
> 
> A lot of hurt feelings going down here, but as they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Also who doesn’t love make up sex?
> 
> Musical inspiration is a 90s classic - Comedown by Bush.

Freeze tries to keep us there for a few more hours, but after it becomes apparent that we’re just going to make trouble for him he lets us go home; he didn’t take well to the very real threat that we’d just start fucking on his OR table at any given moment. That’s to say nothing of the accelerated healing factor the serum’s gifted us with - he has no real excuse to detain us apart from his own stubbornness and curiosity. He packs us up with oxytocin and sends us on our way. We don’t see Harley again after her outburst, and I figure she just needs time to cool down. Yes, this was partially her fault, but she also made up for it in spades, and I hope she comes to see that eventually.

 

Both his car and my bike are gone, so I quickly steal us a ride home – an old Ford Taurus, inconspicuous, easy to break into, and an automatic. We ditch it a few blocks from home, letting it roll down an embankment into the river.

 

The door to the bunker’s wide open when we arrive and I go on high alert, wondering who on earth could have been in there while we were gone. I pick up a plank of wood from the hall and raise it over my shoulder before he places a hand on it, lowering it for me.

 

“Relax,” he tells me, “when Harley called I was out the door so fast I forgot to shut it.”

 

“That’s both adorable, and stupid,” I tease with a fond smile, tossing the wood down and stepping inside, taking a moment to revel in the relief of finally being home.

 

“Well you’d know all about stupid…” he mutters under his breath, following me in. There’s a hint of a smile in his inflection, but it’s not enough to disguise the bitterness.

 

“Are we seriously going to do this _right_ _now_?”

 

“You went in there alone. What the fuck were you thinking?” he asks, raising his voice and taking me by the shoulders to give me a strangely gentle shake, eyes searching mine for an answer. He’s not angry, it’s worse than that, he’s disappointed. “And I know you knew it was a trap, so tell me what the fuck was going through your head that you thought that was a good idea?”

 

“I…I dunno, I wasn’t thinking…I just,” I stammer, looking away in hope he can’t tell that I’m lying.

 

“Look at me. I said, look at me!” He grips my chin and forces me to do as he commands. After studying me for a moment, he lets it drop and backs away, running one hand through his hair and shaking his head at me, an awestruck broken chuckle ringing from his lips. “You never intended to leave did you? It was a fucking suicide mission!”

 

“Jay, I couldn’t let them find you…if they found this place then they could piece together a pattern, find the next one, you’d never be safe,” I start. “I went in there alone because I was gonna put Selina down, make sure there was no way in hell they’d break her, and I didn’t need Harley getting in the way!”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Blaire! I’m a grown ass man, I can take care of myself! I’ve spent a fucking lifetime on the run, I don’t give a shit about being safe! I give a shit about you, and you were just gonna leave me behind?” Now he’s angry, but not with the rage he’s shown me in the past, not like when I fucked up that day I met Harley at the zoo. This is more terrifying, more intense; this is coming from a place of hurt, and the resounding pain in his every word and motion cuts me to the quick. “You were gonna leave me here, to rot away my days alone in this shit hole, because you thought I’d be _safer_ that way? Well that’s a fucking joke if I ever heard one! Have you fucking met me? Why, just why would you think I’d want safety over you?”

 

I wait for him to explode, to hit me, to throw something, to lash out in some way but he doesn’t, he just stares at me, eyes boring into mine waiting for his answer. I want to react the only way I know how, I want to distract him with a kiss, take him to a place of subterfuge cloaked in seduction where he’ll forget about this, but I can’t. He deserves an answer and I don’t have one yet, so I do the only other thing I know how to do.

 

“Maybe you should’ve tried harder to stop me if you didn’t want to lose me so badly!” I spit the words at him with a surprising amount of venom, unleashing the resentment that’s been building up since the moment he walked out that door without closing it. I’m provoking him, trying to bring out the demon I know how to deal with, the one who shoots first and asks questions later, but he’s not coming to the table.

 

“You think I don’t regret that? You think I didn’t turn my ass around the _second_ I realized I fucked up?” he snaps back, stalking towards me until he’s right in my face again, glowering down at me. “By the time I got back you were already gone, and ten minutes later that idiot called me telling me you’d gone full fucking lunatic! I had no idea if you were dead or alive, I was going out of my fucking mind!”

 

“And you think I don’t regret any of it either? You think I don’t know I fucked up? Jesus, Jay, do you have any idea what it was like going to kiss you and finding out you weren’t breathing?” I screech. I shove him hard in the chest but he barely budges, so I start to hit him as I let out all the guilt and fury that’s trapped inside. He doesn’t fight back, he just takes it.

 

“You fucking _died_. You were in my arms, dead, because of something I did! And I waited, for hours I thought you were gone, and when he brought you back I did everything I could to make sure it wasn’t for nothing, even knowing it might still not be enough! So you take that feeling of not knowing if I was dead or alive, rip every last shred of hope out of it, smother it in the guilt of knowing it was all your fault, and maybe then you’ll get some idea of what I went through. Maybe, just maybe then you can bring yourself to stop making me feel even worse because believe me I am doing a good enough job of that for the both of us!”

 

Again, I wait for the slap, the punch, the push, anything, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he swallows hard as he slides his hand to the back of my neck and brings his lips to kiss my forehead before drawing me into his arms.

 

“…I’m sorry,” is his only response. It’s in that moment that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we’ve both changed; Selina was right, we’re more human together.

 

We still have no qualms about cutting down everyone else, we’ll still go on living with the general disregard for others we’ve always had - we’re still monsters and it’s still us against the world. In the moments like this though, when it’s just us two hidden away in each other’s company, that’s when we stand two exposed nerves, raw, bleeding, and vulnerable. Standing in the presence of our greatest strength and our only weakness. Here, the last remaining scraps of our humanity are laid bare, unearthed after being buried on a level so deep, in souls so damaged that the only way they could have ever been excavated was by an equal. We’ve dug through the darkness in one another, and somehow dragged to the surface the last remaining slivers of light.

 

“I am so fucking sorry,” he repeats, and brings his lips to meet mine. What starts as a tender kiss soon becomes a hungry, primal lust, tongues gliding over teeth that nip, tug, and graze, my fingers entwined in his hair and his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer roughly and clamping down intent on never letting me go. We can’t be close enough to each other, there’s a need that I can’t explain, a need perhaps born of fear of losing each other again. An all consuming compulsion to connect.

 

I yank at the back of his t-shirt until he raises his arms so I can divest him of it, and push him against the wall. My hands cup his face as our lips collide again, and he runs his palms up my dress, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh of my backside before pulling my body against his again. Without warning, he lifts me, and stepping forward throws me over his shoulder and marches toward the bedroom. He throws me down on the bed and pops the button on his jeans, and I reach forward, diving my hand into one of his pockets to pull him down on top of me. My legs wrap around his hips, and my fingernails rake down his back when he tears away my underpants and enters me slowly.

 

If what we had before the incident at Arkham was electric, then this is something otherworldly. I don’t know if it’s a side effect of the serum, or something else all together, but it’s as though I can feel him in every cell of my body; like his hands aren’t just gripping my thighs, they’re everywhere all at once, digging into me on a subatomic level. Every thrust feels deeper, every kiss more desperate, every touch sends a shiver dancing across my entire body. When he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the intensity of the pain is both blinding and unfathomably elating; a high I’d chase to the end of all days it’s so euphoric.

 

He sits back on his haunches and pulls me up with him, teeth still firmly embedded in my skin, and an inhuman cry escapes my lips. Finally he unhinges his jaws and our eyes meet as he begins to move faster inside me. I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and we can’t look away from each other. We each stare into the other’s eyes, panting, as though looking anywhere else would kill us. Everything we’ve been through begins to flash through my mind, everything we’ve done, everything we’ve felt, and I now understand why he was hurt; how could I have been so willing to throw that away? Before I can dwell on the thought any longer, I feel the familiar pressure building in my abdomen, and moments later I’m left dizzy and shaking by the orgasm that ransacks my body with him following me into bliss after a few more pumps.

 

We stay there slack jawed and breathless, eyes still locked in disbelief, terrified to move for fear the sensation will die. My muscles start to protest, feeling gelatinous and weak and finally I collapse forward into his arms. He catches me and falls back, and I come to rest on his chest.

 

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, staring at the ceiling in awe.

 

“Yeah,” is the only response I can muster, I don’t even have the strength to lift my head and look at him properly. “Jay?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“For what? That was the best sex of my fucking life, why would you be-”

 

“Not that, you ass!” I cut him off. “For Arkham.”

 

“I told you, that wasn’t your fault,” he reassures me again, propping himself up on one elbow and taking my chin between his thumb and index finger, turning my face so I’m looking into his baby blues again.

 

“I know, I mean…for being so ready to just…abandon you like that. I of all people should fucking know how shit that feels, and yet I was so ready to put you through it,” I explain.

 

“Hey, we all fuck up. I ain’t gonna lie and say I’m over it, but at the same time, all’s well that ends well, so I won’t be losing sleep over it either,” he tells me, tucking my hair behind my ear and cupping my face with his hand. “Still…you remember that promise I made you, about killing you if I ever felt ready to throw you away?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So you know, that deal goes both ways.” I’ve never seen him so serious, so frank as he is in this moment; he’d rather me kill him than throw him away.

 

“A .45, right here,” I mime a pistol with my fingers, and point it to his temple before pulling its figurative trigger and softly making the accompanying sound.

 

“Better make it a .50, just to be sure,” he replies with a growing smirk. “I’m a hard guy to kill.”

 

“Deal.”

 

 


End file.
